


Well, technically

by Goonlalagoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Disobedience by technical complete compliance with the letter of the law, Gen, Harmless fun, Marauders era, McGonagall is Done but also kinda amused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 15:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goonlalagoon/pseuds/Goonlalagoon
Summary: 'No students out of bed after curfew' is one of the oldest rules of Hogwarts. However, as the four Marauders are keen to point out to an irate Head of House, it doesn't technically say anything about not leaving your dormitory...





	Well, technically

Insp. by [this post on tumblr](http://croatoanmary.tumblr.com/post/131911714987/marauders4evr-so-back-in-the-eighth-grade-a)

* * *

 

Professor Minerva McGonagall had never had much truck with the concept of previous lives, though she did admit this was probably due in no small part to the fact she had only ever had it discussed with her by the Divination professor, which meant that she was biased to automatically discount absolutely every word the annoyingly self-pompous twit said. On this particular Wednesday evening, however, she was seriously reconsidering this stance on the matter. Had Professor Opaleye (his actual name, believe it or not - she’d had the misfortune of being in the same year as him) popped up and informed her that she had, in fact, been some terrible human being who got away with everything in a previous life and was now receiving her comeuppance, she would actually be inclined to agree.

The cause - or rather, causes - of her distressed state of mind peered down at her, faces a study in schoolboy laughter and not quite completely disguised pants-wetting terror, the type that only a strict teacher who also happened to be their head of house could produce. She took a fraction of a second to revel in the effects of her hard-earned reputation.

“Which part, gentlemen, of no students out of bed after hours are you still failing to understand, after all these years?” She realised even as the words left her mouth what she had let herself in for. Even had she not, the hastily muffled but still audible giggles from Peter Pettigrew would have given her cause for suspicion. The quickly exchanged glances between the other three and the matching grins on the faces of Sirius Black and James Potter were a pair of clanging warning bells to a teacher who had accepted within the first year of dealing with these irritatingly lovable troublemakers that these four unlikely friends were going to be the cause of countless headaches. A certain amount of shuffling heralded the reappearance of young mister Pettigrew, who peeped down at her with the lower half of his face firmly buried in a pillow.

“Well, professor…” It was Back that started, giving a charming smile and an expression of perfect innocence, a sure sign that he was up to misdeed in the book of any Hogwarts professor. Potter picked up where his friend left off, voice just a little triumphant. “We are not, in point of fact, out of bed.” McGonagall sighed, and rubbed her temples. This was unfortunately true. The four mischief makers were all sat in their standard Hogwarts’ dormitory beds, which were floating a good seven feet off the ground. All four beds were still complete with their four poster frame and the thick red velvet hangings, which were carefully tied back, presumably for the purposes of navigation. The four students were all in their pyjamas too. Pettigrew and Black were even wearing nightcaps, though quite possibly only for dramatic effect. She was sure she could see a teddy bear peeking out from under Potter’s pillow as well.

“Nevertheless, Mister Potter, you are still out of your dormitory after hours, which is, you are aware, not permitted.”

“Er…” McGonagall was sharp-eyed enough to notice the minute but encouraging nod Peter directed at the fourth of the merry band. She mentally braced herself. “Actually, professor, the rules are quite clear.” Remus Lupin cleared his throat lightly. It was always bad news for the professor attempting to discipline the Marauders - a shorthand name the staff room had given them, but which somehow the rascals had discovered and adopted with absolute delight - when Lupin was the one to speak up, because it usually meant something technical and possibly reasonable was going to be trotted out. It wasn’t that he didn’t posses a sense of humour; he had actually made her laugh out loud while grading his second ever Transfiguration essay with a sly pun in his first sentence, and it had to be said that this daring act alone had granted him a reputation for the courage of his House in the staff room. It was simply that he absolutely despised getting into trouble, and had a very healthy - or, in the opinion of some of his year mates, unhealthy - respect for authority, and thus when the Marauders were caught out, he tended to be quietly resigned to his fate rather than arguing.

“It is indeed quite forbidden for students to be out of bed after curfew. However, no-where in the school rules is it stipulated that this bed must be located in their dormitory. Indeed, the only specification that could be considered to in any way relate to the location of the bed in question is the rule stating that no student may enter a professor’s private quarters, except under invitation in case of extreme emergency - such a thing being defined as imminent death, of the student or professor in question, or in the circumstance of delivering news of such an urgent situation, other severe magical malady that cannot be taken to the infirmary, and personal tragedy necessitating certain concessions for the sake of the student’s state of mind.” It took an iron will cultivated over years of being a teacher to keep from blinking in surprise at this solemn recital of the rules. Lupin radiated a sense of slight nervousness, despite the clear cut case he was aiming to lay before her, showing the practical awareness he had a reputation for. Quoting the rules at a teacher was a flimsy defence at best, if only because the fact that you had felt it necessary to look it up suggested you knew you were misbehaving.

“Be that as it may, Lupin, but I would hope - indeed, I _know_ \- that all four of you are perfectly capable of comprehending that the rule is intended to convey that students must remain in their dormitory, where their beds, in fact, belong. Speaking of which, if I find that the entrance to the Gryffindor common room is in any way damaged, the four of you will not have a single evening out of detention for the rest of the school year.” Sirius clasped his hands over his heart and pulled a theatrically wounded expression.

“Why, professor! How could you insinuate that we would be so heartless as to cause any harm to the dear Fat Lady, who guards the entrance to the lion’s den with such grace and dignity?” She believed him, heaven knows why, and had to bite down a temptation to enquire as to how they had actually gotten out of the common room with the enchanted beds, as it was an established fact that the windows in the dormitories couldn’t be enchanted by any student-grade magic in order to prevent broomstick excursions in the middle of the night.

“But technically professor, we are operating within the rules.” Potter was definitely trying not to smirk at her as Peter lifted his head to speak, and she frowned up at him.

“I repeat, Pettigrew; the spirit of the rule is such that this is clearly not permitted.”

“Professor? Surely if we are within the letter of the law we are, in fact, not breaking any rules? After all, if the spirit of the rule is open to interpretation for enforcement, it is perfectly permissible for, say, unscrupulous prefects to interpret ‘disregard for authority’ as ‘didn’t kneel at my feet and kiss my boots’, and deduct house points.” Fury and amusement warred in the heart of Minerva McGonagall. Lupin had picked his example carefully; it had, of course, been her who had revoked that particular piece of bullying, and ensured the prefect in question - one Bellatrix Black, Merlin knows why Slughorn had made her a prefect in the first place - had been suitably punished. He risked a small smile at her, and she forced herself not to return it. She was really developing a headache, not to mention a crick in her neck from staring up at the four floating beds.

“For goodness’s sake, would the four of you just come down from there!” Potter shook his head.

“Sorry, professor, but we can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“Yes, professor. You see, students aren’t supposed to perform magic in the hallways. So we enchanted the beds to remain in flight and utterly under our control, remaining at a safe minimum distance from floor and ceiling, until such a time as we returned to our original positions in the dormitory, whereupon we can end the spell.” He was smirking now. She glared, and he schooled his features frantically into endearingly honest. She had to admit, even if only to herself, that she was impressed. They had clearly thought this through in considerable detail, and the levitation spell they were using was evidently quite complex. If only they put that much effort into their schoolwork, rather than just very good marks (or at least decent ones, in the case of Pettigrew, who was by nature not a boy comfortable with a quill), they probably would have discovered several new spells and ten different potions by now. Shaking her head, she pointed a stern finger at the main staircase.

“Back to your dormitory, and _stay there_ until it is time for breakfast. Now.” They hesitated, suspicious. She could see the triumphant grins sliding across their faces as it dawned on them that they had, apparently, gotten away with it. She narrowed her eyes at them. “Now.” Pettigrew cleared his throat and sat up straight, taking hold of what appeared to be a teacup, but was presumably the devised mode of steering, unless all four boys had decided to bring a hot drink along on their midnight excursion.

“Gentlemen; may I remind you to keep all limbs inside the bed frame while the mattress is in motion. In the event of a crash, vacate the vehicle by means of the clearest emergency exit. These can be found on all four sides of the bed.” Potter caught her glare, and grinned.

“There _is_ such a thing as health and safety, professor.”

As soon as the beds were out of sight, McGonagall changed into a cat and raced through the warren of tapestries, small gaps, and back passages that formed a network of shortcuts for those of the feline persuasion, even if they were only part time. She arrived at the portrait leading to the Gryffindor common room mere seconds before the four beds drifted in stately procession along the corridor. Her sensitive ears picked up a frantic whispered conversation.

“All right, let’s do this properly on the first go, I don’t want to almost bash my head in again.”

“We’ve got more of a run up, we’ll have more time. And we have the hang of hovering, so emergency stops are probably the next thing to work on, right?”

“Who’s doing what?”

“Pads and I will do the enlargement charm on the entrance while you do that canvas-protecting charm of yours, Pete, to make sure we don’t damage the poor dear. Moony, can you -?”

“Make sure none of us fall off? Why didn’t we include something for that when we started out in the first place.”

"We didn’t think of it in time!”

“Umm…guys!” At Pettigrew’s reminder that the wall was fast approaching, the boys went to work. The Fat Lady was watching their approach with interest and concern, poised to dive into the next painting if all went awry. Hidden in the shadows, McGonagall watched the surprisingly seamless operation. Pettigrew, in the lead, risked raising his voice to give the password with a good few lengths to go, and as the portrait swung open, started murmuring a charm that McGonagall had never come across but intended to look into as a matter of teacherly pride. Black and Potter worked a more standard spell to widen the entrance, and Lupin was, she was pleased to see, transfiguring bed sheets into rough seatbelts. The need for these became very clear when the beds turned through ninety degrees to fit through the letterbox shaped gap. McGonagall sprang through the entrance after them even as it began to shrink to normal size, executing a fluid shift back to human form as she landed on the Gryffindor carpet.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh _dear_.” All four beds froze on the spot as they dropped their navigating teacups in surprise, and four heads turned to look at her in panic. “I would have thought by now that the four of you would have learnt that magic in the corridors is expressly forbidden in the school rules except in case of extreme emergency, such as prevention of potentially lethal accidents.” Sirius Black licked his lips nervously, glancing around his friends to see if any of them had any bright ideas. They all sat in the frozen horror of mice that have just heard the cat purr.

“Well, _technically_ , professor, going headlong into a wall could be considered potentially lethal..? And it has to be said that many professors tend to view that more as a guideline, provided no one is harmed and no damage is caused, so really -” She gave a thin lipped smile.

“I think _not_ , mister Black. That would be a detention for each of you, as per the rules and regulations. Oh, and take five points for a neat bit of transfiguration, Lupin.” She turned to the door, and paused to glance back over her shoulder. “Goodnight – I see you’re all already tucked up in bed.”


End file.
